Such was the state of things, when the singular circumstances which attended the murder of one of Condé’s domestics made that prince believe that the chiefs of the Fronde had conspired to assassinate him. He thought, by such a crime, to have found an opportunity for crushing that faction in the persons of its chiefs, and he instituted a process in parliament against the contrivers of that murder. Public report particularly pointed to two persons, De Retz and Beaufort; and Condé, by his accusation, hoped to force them to quit Paris, where they found their principal means of influence in the populace. But in attacking thus, as it were, face to face, the two most popular men of the moment, Condé showed no better tact than in dealing with the Prime Minister. He conducted himself with so much haughtiness and arrogance, that the young nobles who surrounded the soldier prince, when they wished to flatter him, spoke of Mazarin as his slave.[54]
The process went on nevertheless. Almost all the judges were convinced of the innocence of the accused, but Condé pretended that they could not be absolved without giving a deadly affront to himself. He demanded that at the very least the Coadjutor and Beaufort should be made to quit Paris under some honourable pretext, and the Princess-Dowager de Condé declared that it was the height of insolence in them to remain in the capital when it was her son’s wish that they should leave it. The Queen, who equally detested the Prince de Condé and the Frondeurs, could scarcely conceal her joy at seeing them at daggers drawn with each other; feeling certain that the moment was at hand when their dissensions would restore her supremacy.
Under such circumstances Condé had need of all his friends, but he considered that he was set at defiance, and he gave way all the more to his wonted pride and overbearing obstinacy. He seemed to take pleasure in offending Anne of Austria and Mazarin. The young Duke de Richelieu had been declared heir to an immense fortune, of which his aunt and guardian, the Duchess d’Aiguillon, was the depositary. The stronghold of Havre de Grâce, which the Cardinal de Richelieu had formerly held as a place of retreat, was by such title in the possession of the Duchess d’Aiguillon. Condé desired to be master of it, either for himself or for his brother-in-law, the Duke de Longueville. The young Duke de Richelieu was engaged to be married to Mademoiselle de Chevreuse, but the Prince having remarked that he had some liking for Madame de Pons, a sister of his own first love, managed to marry him clandestinely to her in the Château de Trye, lent him two thousand pistoles until he should be of age to enter upon possession of his property, and made him take possession of Havre de Grâce. The Queen was mortally offended at such a proceeding on the part of Condé, who had moreover threatened to throw into the sea those she might send to Havre to seize the fortress; but the Duchess d’Aiguillon’s resentment was still deeper and more active. She was the first to tell Anne of Austria, that she would never be queen again until she had had the Prince de Condé arrested, assuring her that all the Frondeurs would lend their hands to aid her in carrying out such a resolution.
Almost at this moment, a gentleman named Jarzé, attached to Condé, foolishly took it into his head that the Queen entertained a liking for him, and it reached her ears that Condé and his friends had amused themselves whilst at table over their wine with Jarzé’s revelations of his amour with her, and that he had begun to feel certain of getting rid of Mazarin by that means. Mazarin himself probably became somewhat alarmed, as he spoke pointedly to the Queen on the subject, who pretended only to have contemplated the ridiculous side of her new adorer’s gallantries. But when Jarzé next made his appearance in her cabinet, she rated him roundly before the whole Court upon his absurd fatuity, and forbade him ever to enter her presence again. The Prince de Condé, pretending to feel hurt at the affront put upon Jarzé, early next morning paid the Prime Minister a visit, and insolently demanded that Jarzé should be received that very evening by the Queen. Anne of Austria submitted to his dictation, but could not endure such humiliation without seeking to avenge herself. In a woman’s heart every other species of resentment yields to that of wounded pride. A few lines addressed to the Coadjutor in the Queen’s own handwriting, and carried by Madame de Chevreuse, brought to her side that wily priest and formidable tribune, disguised en cavalier. Certain negotiations, however, which had preceded this interview, had reached the ears of Condé, who went to Mazarin to denounce the treachery. The Cardinal, glowing with a hatred which would have stopped at nothing for its gratification, laughed and jested, or flattered and soothed the object of his concealed wrath. He turned the Archbishop of Corinth into ridicule when Condé blamed him for his duplicity. “If I catch him,” said the Cardinal, “in the disguise you speak of—in his feathered hat, and cloak, and military boots—I will get a sight of him for your Highness;” and they roared at the idea of discovering the intriguer in so unfitting an apparel. But shortly afterwards in the wintry gloom of a January midnight (1650), disguised beyond the reach of detection, and guarded by a passport from the Cardinal himself, De Retz was admitted at midnight by a secret door into the Regent’s room at the Palais Royal, and deep conference was held between the two. The conditions of agreement were readily stipulated. The Coadjutor with an inconceivable address and most extraordinary success handled the threads of the intrigues consequent upon such agreement. He succeeded in making himself the confidant of Gaston; he made him renounce his favourite, the Abbé de la Rivière; he engaged him in the coalition which had been just set on foot between the Court and the Fronde, and he obtained his assent to the arrest of the Princes. Everything succeeded that was agreed upon. The Queen-Regent, at the moment of a council being held at the Palais-Royal, gave the fatal order, and then withdrew into her oratory. There she made the young King kneel down beside her in order to invoke Heaven in concert with herself to obtain the happy achievement of an act of tyranny which was destined to produce fresh woes to the realm, and to rekindle in it the flames of civil war.
On the morrow of the 18th of January, 1650, all Paris was electrified at the news of the arrest of the three Princes—Condé, Conti, and Longueville. That bold coup d’état was effected very easily and unceremoniously. The Princes went voluntarily, as it were, into the mouse-trap, by attending a great council at the Palais Royal. Anne had obtained from Condé an order for the seizure and detention of three or four persons whose names were left in blank; and on the authority of his own signature, the hero of Rocroy and the other two princes, were led quietly down a back stair, given over to the custody of a small escort of twenty men under the command of Guitaut and Comminges, and by them conducted during the night to Vincennes.
FOOTNOTES:
[53] Talon, mém. t. lxii. pp. 65-105.—Montpensier.
[54] Motteville, mém. t. xxxix. p. 4.—Guy-Joly.